


Milk Tea

by Purrdence



Series: Tea for Three [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Don't start Dum Dum about Boston..., Howling Commandos - Freeform, Multi, Not completely Agent Carter compliant, Peggy has a gun, Polyamory, SO MUCH TEA, Sitting under apple trees, Steve does something dumb, Tea, communicate, condom thieves, dammit!, meet the Smiths, shag - Freeform, the andrews sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purrdence/pseuds/Purrdence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tea solves everything. </p><p>You're a bit cold? Tea.</p><p>You've just been busted out of a HYRDA prison? Tea.</p><p>Your boyfriend just got caught being kissed by another woman, by <i>his</i> girlfriend? <b>TEA, DAMMIT!</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still being beta'ed by Gemfyre. Thanks! :D
> 
> If you haven't read 'Tea for Three', the first story in this series, you really should go read it first. Watching _Captain America: the First Avenger_ wouldn't hurt, either.

November, 1943

\--------------

“Since when did you start drinking tea, Sarge?” Dum Dum says loudly as he puts his lunch tray down with a clatter on the table, sitting down opposite Bucky.

Bucky really wants to say _‘Since last night, right before some of the best sex I’ve ever had, even though it wasn’t_ completely _sex, but still- wow, let me tell you the details.’_ But that was really none of Dum Dum’s damn business.

“You know what they say,” Bucky says with a shrug instead. “When in Rome…”

“Aren’t you the one that tried tea when we first arrived here and declared it to be ‘like fucking sockwater’?” Dum Dum shoots back, looking at his Sergeant skeptically as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Falsworth sides-eyes Dum Dum as he sets his own lunch tray down at their end of the long table in the mess hall. “Are you besmirching one of the greatest British traditions, Dugan?” he asks dryly. 

Dum Dum gives Falsworth a shit-eating grin. “I’m from Boston. We have a special relationship with tea there.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bucky says firmly, command voice starting to creep in as he glares at Dum Dum, then Falsworth. “We are not starting another international incident over tea, got it?”

“But you said-” Dum Dum starts.

“A fella’s allowed to give something a second chance, ain’t he?” Bucky says, cutting him off. “And to be honest, I think we may have had honest-to-fuckin’-god sockwater in that fuckin’ HYDRA facility, so this can’t be as bad, can it?”

Leaning back, Bucky takes a tentative sip from his mug of black tea. While it isn’t as good as Peggy’s Earl Grey blend, it’s much more palatable than whatever was posing as tea that first time. Maybe next time he’ll add a little sugar if he can get his hands on it.

Dum Dum eyes Bucky suspiciously. “What exactly _were_ you drinking last night?”

“Oh do leave the chap alone!” Falsworth murmurs over his own cup of tea. “Just because the Sergeant’s broadening his range of beverages doesn’t mean you need to have him a hard time about it.”

“Speaking of last night, where’d you and the Cap get to?” Gabe Jones slides in at the table next to Bucky, followed by Dernier. “Last we saw were you two disappearing off into the night after Agent Carter.”

“Agent Carter?” Bucky echoes, schooling his face to stay as neutral as possible. “Oh, her. There was something she wanted to talk to Rogers and she forgot to tell him the first time ‘round. We stepped outside where it was quieter.”

“What, that took the rest of the evening?” Dum Dum says, chasing peas around his plate with a fork. He triumphantly spears some and pops them into his mouth.

“Nah, Rogers wanted to walk her home and I needed to get some fresh air,” Bucky explains. He wasn’t _completely_ lying; everything he’d said so far has a large sliver of truth in it. “Too many bad sorts out there these days. He wanted to make sure she got home safe.”

Gabe’s eyebrows go up, looking at Bucky as he quietly translates for Dernier. He chuckles softly when the Frenchman replies. “He says the stories he’s heard about Agent Carter makes her sound like she’d hand anyone their - ”

Gabe looks to Dernier, trying to find the right words. “ – ass on a platter if they tried to mug her.”

Falsworth chuckles under his breath to himself, comprehension on his face. Bucky guesses that the Brit understands enough French to get the joke, if there is one. Bucky leans into Gabe’s space. “That wasn’t an exact translation, was it?”

“Not quite,” Gabe grins back. “That was the less… colourful… version.”

“Yeah, Rogers is too nice for his own good sometimes,” Bucky says, this time louder so the rest of the group can hear. “Least he didn’t get into a fistfight this time.”

“A fistfight?” Falsworth says with cool amusement. “That seems a bit… tame, after what he did in Italy.”

They all look up as Jim Morita hurries across the mess hall, eyes wide like there’s something he just can’t hold in any longer.

“You guys will not believe what I just heard from one of the eggheads down in R&D,” Morita hisses at them as he sits down.

“Hitler’s realised that he’s not a deity and is a very naughty boy, so he’s called off the war, he wants us to know he’s very, very sorry and we can all go home?” While Dum Dum is obliviously being sarcastic, there is a kernel of hope in his voice.

“Yeah, I wish,” Morita replies ruefully.

“Don’t we all?” mutters Bucky. 

Morita takes a breath and leans in. “Egghead told me that Agent Carter shot at Captain Rogers. Not just once – something like three times!”

Bucky’s jaw drops open, as does most of the others in their group. 

“Agent Carter?” Bucky says incredulously, not able to wrap his head around this information. Was this the same woman that had watched him go down on Steve the night before? “Agent Peggy Carter? The woman who helped get Steve into Austria and is part of the reason we got rescued?”

“Yes, _that_ Agent Carter. Yay tall, brown hair, boobs you wanna put your face in-” Morita says, using his hands to illustrate what his is describing.

“Morita!” Bucky snaps at him. “Don’t be disrespectful of a lady!”

Morita shrugs off the rebuke. “Since when does a ‘lady’ shoot a guy without good reason, huh?”

Dernier murmurs something to Gabe and the American shrugs. “We wanna know if this is typical of British women, ‘cause Jacques’s come across a few ladies back in France who would happily shoot you if you cross them.”

“I assure you this is highly unusual!” Falsworth replies, a mite scandalised. He turns to Morita. “Was Captain Rogers unarmed?”

“Is he hurt?” Bucky asks, the cold tendrils of worry uncurling in his stomach. The irony of something bad happening to Steve just after Bucky has been brought back from the brink of death does not escape him. 

“Nah, he’s fine,” Morita assures Bucky, patting him on the shoulder. “Rogers was holding a shield or something. Bullets didn’t make it through; some fancy pants new-fangled metal. He’s a bit shaken up, but he’s fine.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Bucky mutters, rubbing his face with his hand, then grabbing his drink and taking a long swig. He chokes on it, grimacing as he swallows. His tea’s gone cold.

“Where are you going?” Dum Dum asks, concerned, as Bucky pushes away from the table and strides off. 

“I’m gonna go find Rogers,” Bucky says, turning around and walking backwards for a few steps. “But first, I need more tea.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Whaddahellwasthafor?!?”_ Steve yelps, grabbing the back of his head where Bucky had just slapped him hard as the Sergeant had fallen into step next to Steve.

An SSR agent eyes them suspiciously as she walks towards them in the hallway . “Are you alright, Sir?” she asks Steve.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you," Steve replies, shooting Bucky a sharp look. “The Sergeant’s a friend.”

Grabbing Bucky’s upper arm in a vice-like grip, Steve steers Bucky down the hallway until he finds an empty room – the men’s room. “Seriously Bucky,” Steve says, rubbing the spot on the back of his head where it still smarted from the slap. “What was that for?”

“Why the hell have I been hearing stories about Peggy trying to shoot you?” Bucky hisses at him, keeping his voice down when someone flushes the toilet in one of the stalls, revealing the room to not be as empty as they thought. “Are they true?”

Steve waits as the third man comes out of the stall, washes his hands and leaves. “Yes, they’re true… only she didn’t _try_ to shoot me, she actually _did_.”

“The hell, Stevie?!?” Bucky leans against the wall, scowling, with his arms crossed over his chest. “It ain’t normal for the dame you made scream down the roof _just last night_ to turn around and shoot ya for no good reason! Hell, it ain’t normal to shoot a fella _with_ a good reason, most of the time. What the fuck happened?”

“She had a reason…” Steve admits slowly and sheepishly, staring down at his shoes.

“She did,” Bucky replies flatly, not impressed. He gives Steve withering look.

“I screwed up, Buck.” Steve looks up, his face a mixture of fear and shame. “Peggy caught me kissing this other woman - ”

“Wait – whoa – WHAT?” Bucky debates internally whether or not to cuff Steve across the back of his dumb head again until he knocks some sense back into the man. 

“I didn’t _mean_ to, Buck - ” 

“What, you just tripped and fell onto her lips, didya?” Bucky snarks at Steve.

“No! It wasn’t like that!” Steve protests. “She kissed me first!”

“Did she now?” Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, his mouth a firm line.

“C’mon Buck, when have you known me to be so forward with women?” Steve says, trying to prove his point.

“How do I know that ain’t the only thing that’s changed since I shipped out?” Bucky retorts, reaching out and giving one of Steve’s bulging biceps a squeeze through his uniform. Bucky isn’t going to admit it to Steve, but it’s going to take a while to get used to Steve’s new body. Asthma and other assorted health issues aside, Bucky _liked_ the way Steve looked before. 

“I’m still me inside,” Steve replies softly. “Same old me, just a new and improved outside.”

 _That’s what I’m worried about,_ Bucky thinks to himself. Big new body to match the big ideas Steve's always had.

Bucky steps closer so he’s in Steve’s space. “Yeah, you’re right. You’ve always been Captain Sassypants until you had to deal with a pretty broad.”

Reaching up, Steve straightens up the tie on Bucky’s uniform. Today was the first day in which Bucky had put on his uniform with care, unlike the shambles he’d been getting away with since they came back to England. Waking up in a warm tangle of bodies and limbs with Steve and Peggy this morning had done a lot to start lifting him out of the grey funk he had been trapped in since Steve found him strapped to Zola’s table.

“You’re lucky Peggy’s not around to hear you,” Steve chides gently, brushing some fluff off Bucky’s shoulder.

“Or what?” Bucky grouses, bringing the conversation back to his main concern. “She’s gonna give me a shiner? Shoot me too?”

Steve scowls at Bucky, stepping away from him as the door into the restroom is pushed open with a thud and the rest of their new squad spill into the room. “Aha! You found him!” Dum Dum declares to Bucky.

Morita nudges Steve with an elbow and grins at the Captain. “So what have you been doing to get beautiful and terrifyingly fierce women brandishing firearms at you?”

“Did _everyone_ hear what happened?!?” Steve asks, aghast. 

Each man looks at each other and shrugs a little. “One of Stark’s minions has a big mouth,” Gabe explains. “I’m sure a ship is sinking somewhere as we speak.”

“Sweet Mary and Joseph…” Steve mutters, hiding the red creeping up his neck and across his cheeks with his big hands.

“At least it hasn’t made the newspapers,” points out Falsworth.

“And since we’re not reading about it in the papers,” Dum Dum says, clapping Steve on the back. “You gotta tell us what happened.”

“Some dame kissed him and Agent Carter saw,” Bucky pipes up. When Steve glares at him, Bucky gives him a stone cold glare back, twisting his mouth into a smirk.

“That can’t be everything,” Gabe says as all eyes fall on Steve to provide a better explanation.

“Well I _might_ have said some stupid things…” Steve admits, looking extremely sheepish, which Bucky would normally find amusing on a fella as large as Steve is now. But now Bucky and Queen Victoria have something in common.

“Define ‘stupid’,” Bucky mutters.

“Maybe start at the beginning?” prompts Gabe.

To be truthful, ‘the beginning’ today would be waking up in Peggy’s brother’s apartment. Tea and toast for breakfast, with the last of Peggy’s butter, before getting dressed and heading back to the barracks for a shower. Bucky’s pretty sure the only reason they weren’t busted for being out all night is Steve’s Captain America and Captain America’s pretty hot shit right now.

Steve, showing the first bit of sense in a while, skips all that. “So, I’m waiting to see Howard Stark about improvements to my costume, since prancing around in tights - ” 

“And short shorts,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

Hearing much improved thanks to the serum, Steve reaches over and gives Bucky a shove. Bucky’s going to have to remember that Steve isn’t half deaf in that ear anymore.

“Since prancing around in tights,” Steve continues. “Isn’t practical in the middle of battle, yanno? So I’m waiting and this blonde dame starts talking to me after she recognises me from some article in the paper she’s reading. Then without warning she’s grabbing me be the tie and draggin’ me off to the side and planting her lips on me!”

“And you’d never met her before?” Morita asks.

“Not to my knowledge,” Steve replies, rubbing behind one of his ears, still embarrassed. “She was all over me!”

“And that’s when Agent Carter walks in?” Bucky asks dryly.

“Yeah,” comes the reply.

Dernier says something after listening to Gabe. Gabe’s eyebrow goes up at what Dernier has said, but translates anyway. “Did you kiss Agent Carter last night?”

Steve hems and haws over his response so much that the others take it as a yes. “And then she walks in on you kissing this blonde bird today?” Falsworth supplies.

“Yes…” Steve says slowly.

Falsworth asks another question. “Were you an _active_ participant in said kissing?”

“Whatdya mean?” Steve asks.

“Well, were you just standing there like a statue?” Falsworth says, a little surprised. “I’m sure you’ve seen women do it when they’re kissed by a man they find unpleasant, but they can’t bring themselves to slap the bounder. So they endure it and hope for it to end quickly.”

“Maybe for a little, at first…”

“At first?” Falsworth repeats. “But you warmed up pretty quickly?”

Steve nods at little. His mortification is slow in leaving his face. “She was like a goddamn octopus.”

“And that’s when Agent Carter walks in…” surmises the Brit, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Everyone except Dum Dum looks pained or gives Steve a _‘really?!?’_ deadpan glare. Dum Dum mutters to himself about ‘finding this broad; she sounds delightful!’

“You know you’re allowed to turn ‘em down, right?” Morita pipes up. “Same as the ladies got a right to sock you in the jaw-”

Morita winces a little when someone lightly cuffs him across the back of the head. Steve looks relieved it’s not him for a change. Morita rolls his eyes a little and corrects himself. “I mean, they gotta right to say no.”

“Jim Morita, are you saying I shoudda socked her in the jaw?” Steve looks slightly scandalised.

“No! That’s not what I meant, Jesus Christ!” Morita mirrors Falsworth’s pinching of the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to just stand and take it, got it? Especially if you’ve already got the attention of a, quite frankly, beautiful and terrifying woman who’s a crack shot with a pistol. But something tells me it wasn’t just that that pissed her off, was it?”

Steve looks really miserable, but after a long moment he talks. “I might have suggested – incorrectly, I might add – that she and Stark had been… y’know… _fonduing_ …”

“Fonduing?!?”

“What’s melted cheese and bread got to do with this?” Dum Dum interjects. He looks around at the others. “I’ve had it before; it’s really good. You stick the bread on your fork and dip it in the cheese-”

“Not helping, Dugan,” Steve mutters. “And I didn’t think it was about food when I first heard it. Not the way Stark put it. I thought he was talking about fucking.”

“You thought… Agent Carter… Howard Stark… _fucking_?” Bucky says slowly, massaging a spot over his left eye where a headache is starting to form. “I… I have no words.”

“Well I do,” Dum Dum cuts in. “We were sent to find you two and tell you we’ve got a briefing in five minutes, so get a hustle on!”

One by one the rest of the group files out of the restroom, ignoring all and any of the odd looks they get. “If Agent Carter’s at the briefing and she tries to shoot you again, I ain’t throwing myself in front of ya, Cap,” Morita teases dryly. “You gotta sort out this argument with her.”

“Yes, do make it right with her,” Falsworth suggest. “Or the rest of the war is going to be very uncomfortable around here…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll play nice,” Steve grouses, still embarrassed down to his boots.

Bucky grabs Steve by the arm, pulling him back before he can exit the restroom. “They might be joking around, talking about making nice with Peggy,” he says in a low voice. “But I ain’t. We – you – gotta make up with Peggy, Steve.”

“You _are_ serious,” Steve says quietly. “You really want me to be with her as well as you?”

It would be so easy to say no. Write this whole thing with the Agent off as a failed experiment and keep Steve all to himself. Yet Bucky can’t. He nods solemnly, hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah, I do, Stevie,” he says. “Like Morita says, she’s fierce and terrifying and she likes you and she don’t care that I like you too. That doesn’t happen often.”

It hadn’t felt like a one night thing when they’d woken up this morning. If it hadn’t been that they all had to report for duty this morning, they’d probably never have left Peggy’s apartment at all today.

If only. If only.

“Peggy’s one of the best things that’s happened to ya, right?” Bucky says, giving Steve a cocky grin. “'Part from me, ammirite?”

“Christ, Bucky, you are such a jerk sometimes,” Steve breathes, smiling for the first time since Bucky had tracked him down today. “But yes, I agree.”

“To which one?” Bucky leans in, still smirking and getting in Steve’s space.

“Both, ya big lug!” Rolling his eyes, Steve quickly pecks Bucky on the cheek.

Biting his lower lip and looking at his lover through lowered eyelashes, Bucky steps back a little. As much as he would like to do more than just kiss Steve right now, the men’s room inside the SSR is not the place. Even if it _is_ pretty nice for a restroom…

“Later,” he mutters to Steve hotly, the note of desire in his voice clear. “Briefing first, then we go talk to Peggy.”

“Make it right,” Steve agrees.

Bucky opens up the door and pushes Steve through the doorway. “Fucked if I survived that fuckin’ HYDRA factory just to come back and watch you be a punk fool.”

“I love you too,” Steve murmurs, just loud enough for Bucky to hear.


	3. Chapter 3

“This is the place, right?” Steve looks at the house in the middle of a row of terraced houses that look similar to each other.

“Yeah, it’s the right one,” Bucky reassures the nervous Steve. He points up. “Swell metalwork, remember?”

Steve looks up, peering at the detail without any difficulty now. “That’s right,” he confirms. “Don’t know how Peggy missed that…”

“It was really dark last night, what with the blackout and all,” Bucky replies quickly, hoping Steve doesn’t put two and two together. A niggling voice in the back of his head point out that Bucky shouldn’t have noticed the detail in the dark either. He’s pretty sure he’s physically back to fighting form and he shouldn’t be – not this quickly after what that piggish little Swiss man did to him. He looks away when Steve side eyes him, mouth a firm line. He’s never been able to bullshit Steve Rogers for long.

Trying to shift the conversation off himself, Bucky gives Steve a shove towards the door. “No point putting it off,” he says. “Man up and takes your licks.”

Steve steps up to the door, trying the knob. “Locked!” he says, looking back to Bucky for help.

“I ain’t picking the lock,” Bucky shoots back. “Ya nuts or something? It’s a busy street.”

When Steve tries a pout on him, Bucky shakes his head emphatically. “This ain’t our local movie theatre, Stevie. I don’t feel like being hauled away by some English copper.”

“It’s like you don’t want me to make good with Peggy,” Steve mutters as Bucky steps closer so he can look at the lock more closely.

Rolling his eyes at Steve’s attempt to guilt him into action, Bucky replies sarcastically “Why don’t you put a pathetic little cough at the end there? Works for you every other time.”

Steve’s snappy comeback dies on his lips as they spring back when the front door opens and a middle-aged man in a boiler suit emerges, eying the soldiers as he passes them on his way to work. Seizing the opportunity, Bucky’s hand shoots out, catching the edge of the door before it shuts.

Wow, that was faster than he used to be. Maybe he’ll try out for the Dodgers if they make if through the war…

“After you,” Bucky smirks at Steve, ushering him through the door. 

“Asshole,” Steve murmurs affectionately, giving Bucky a shove with his shoulder as he goes through the door and ascends the stairs carefully in order to not draw the ire of the Neighbour Downstairs.

Once on Peggy’s floor, they stand in front of her closed door. Steve’s hand hovers over it, while the other clutches a posy of flowers they stole from a garden along the walk to Peggy’s street.

“C’mon,” Bucky prods. “It ain’t like it’s the Fuhrer in there.” 

“Trust me, taking on Hitler would feel easier right about now,” Steve says through gritted teeth. “And you all wonder why I wasn’t going on many dates before.”

“Wasn’t like the only company you ever got was your right hand, Steve,” shoots back Bucky, his expression so innocent unicorns would have flocked to him. Bucky reaches up, hand ready to tap against the painted wood. “Do you need me to do this for ya, pal?”

The set of Steve’s jaw goes really square, his old determination wrapped up in a fancy new wrapping. Before Bucky can do it, Steve knocks on the door loudly.

Time moves slowly as they stand there. Steve holds his breath. Bucky’s not sure if it’s his own heartbeat softly thudding in his chest in the stillness or Steve’s – his hearing’s been getting better these days too…

Bucky jumps a few inches when Steve knocks sharply on the door again; he really needs to be careful about getting lost in his own head. What helped before isn’t useful now he’s out of that lab…

“She ain’t here,” Bucky says weakly after they wait for another long pause.

“Then I’ll wait,” Steve replies stubbornly, sitting down on the floor next to the door. As he arranges himself more comfortably, a memory of all the times Bucky found Steve outside their apartment in Brooklyn because he’d forgotten his key wells up. It feels so weird seeing Steve doing this and taking up twice the space now.

Steve misinterprets the reason for the frown on Bucky’s face. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Buck,” he mentions, turning the posy around in his large hands. 

“Maybe I wanna stay,” Bucky retorts, stepping over Steve’s legs and lowering himself to the ground next to Steve. “We all saw what happened last time I left you to your own devices.”

* * *

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you two here,” Peggy says, coming to a halt a few steps from the top of the flight of stairs.

Bucky rubs at the grit in his eyes, surprised at himself for dozing off while he and Steve waited.

“Peggy - ” Steve starts, scrambling to his feet.

Peggy stands there, mouth in a firm line as she considers the two men. Bucky takes the moment to stand up, carefully watching Mr Prone-to-fistfights and Miss Prone-to-shooting-people eye each other off.

_‘My god, they’re two fucking peas in a pod,’_ he realises with a start, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggle threatening to leave his lips.

“You alright Bucky?” Steve asks, looking concerned. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky replies, patting Steve on the shoulder. Not cracking from combat stress or whatever they call it. Everything is just _fine,_.

If he keeps saying this to himself, Bucky might even believe it, soon enough.

Peggy looks at them again, the slump of her shoulder tired. She sighs deeply, then unlocks the door, shaking her head at herself. “You might as well come in…”

Steve smiles a small, relieved smile and Bucky will be the first to admit that there was a moment there where he was worried she’d kick them to the kerb. Steve holds up the purloined posy, which is started to wilt since the flowers were gathered.

“It looked better before…” he tries to explain. A nudge from Bucky and Rogers holds it out, offering it to Peggy.

“Thank you,” Peggy says stiffly, like she isn’t quite sure how to proceed. “I’ll- I’ll put these in some water; they’ll perk right up, I’d say.”

They stand there in the hallway, staring at each other awkwardly, much like children caught fighting and then expected to apologise. Damned if Bucky was going to stand in for the role of the parent; that would just be weird, considering last night. Much too weird. 

It is the sound of the Busybody’s front door opening downstairs that finally spurs them in to action. Peggy goes searching for a vase in the kitchen, Failing to find one, she fills up a pint glass with water, sticks the flowers in that and places them on the side table, next to the record player. Bucky shuts the door once he and Steve enter the apartment. He leans against one side of the door; Steve takes the spot of the other side of the door, head down. 

Peggy leans against the side table, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised in a silent ‘well?’ gesture. “I take it you heard what this idiot did, if you’re here too?” she says to Bucky.

“I heard,” he confirms, shaking his head in amazement, but the rest of his body language mirroring hers. “I heard about what _you_ did too.”

Colour rises to her cheek in embarrassment, before she purses her lips together and squares her shoulders.

“Ugh, you’re both dumbasses!” Bucky snaps after several minutes of Steve clamping his mouth shut and Peggy trying to pretend she’s got the moral superiority in this argument. When the glares go from being thrown at each other to being directed at him, Bucky throws up his hands and stomps into the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle, he set it down in the sink with a loud crash, turning the faucet on full to fill the kettle while he lights the burner on the stovetop.

“What _are_ you doing?” Peggy calls irritably. 

Once the kettle is sufficiently filled, Bucky puts it on top of the flame. “I’m making tea. That’s what people do around here when something upsetting happens, ain’t it? He retorts, standing in the kitchen doorway, he jabs a finger at them and then in the direction of the small kitchen. “We are all going to sit down, behave like the adults we theoretically are, and drink some fucking tea.”

Banging cabinet doors open and shut until he finds the tea leaves and the assorted paraphernalia for putting the tea in, Bucky sets out the tea pot and three cups on the table with care. While he has turns to deal with removing the kettle from the heat, Peggy, then Steve, slink into the room and take a seat opposite each other at the small table.

Casting his mind back to the previous evening, Bucky realises he wasn’t in the room when Peggy brewed the pot of tea and they drank coffee back home, when they could afford it. “How do I do this?” he mutters sheepishly. “Is it like making coffee?”

“Is it like making coffee?!?” Peggy starts, but tempers down her incredulity when Bucky shoots her a tired glare of those whose patience is running thin. “You put once scoop of tea leaves in the pot for each person, then one extra. Then you add the water and let it steep for a while.”

While Bucky measures out dry tea leaves into the pot as instructed, Steve retrieves the chair from the bedroom, putting it down between the two other chairs. Sinking down on the chair once the tea pot is filled, Bucky gives them both the stink eye. “You’re both still dumbasses.” 

“We _have_ been rather foolish today…” Peggy admits sheepishly.

“You and me both…” Steve agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “Said some things I maybe shoulda not…”

“You think so?” Peggy shoots back.

“You’re not exactly one to talk!” Bucky interrupts before Steve can open his mouth to put his foot back in. “This isn’t a contest to see who was the biggest knucklehead!”

Steve and Peggy sit back in their chairs looking thoroughly chastened. The idea that he’s the grown-up at the moment floats back into his head, making Bucky grimace. 

“So what happens now?” Steve asks, looking to Bucky again for solutions.

“Oh don’t look at me,” Bucky snaps, holding his hands up as if to deflect Steve’s churlish look. “I ain’t the one that was caught in a compromising position without talking about it first.”

This piques Peggy’s attention. “What do you mean ‘without talking about it first’?”

Steve looks at Bucky, giving little shrug, as if to say ‘ok, fine’, before Bucky starts explaining. “I think you figured out by now that Stevie here likes women as well as men - ”

“Yes, I did notice that last night,” Peggy says wryly with a ghost of a smile.

“I’ll be honest,” Bucky continues. “I’ve been known to enjoy the company of a willing lady in the bed as well, once in a while. That and they make better dance partners than Steve.”

Steve snorts gently. “I can’t argue that point.”

“Thing is, even with living in the part of Brooklyn we live in and all, we’ve still gotta be careful, so the cops don’t it in their heads to drag us off in handcuffs for bein’ queer. So we go out and do things with women sometimes, unlike a lotta guys who do it to ‘keep up appearances’, we actually enjoy spending time with the ladies, yeah?”

“Well, he was doing things with the ladies…” Steve mutters, reminding them of his dismal luck before meeting Peggy.

“Yeah, well most of the eligible female population of Brooklyn needs their eyes examined,” Bucky replies fiercely. He’ll take that opinion to the grave if he had to.

“I would have to agree there,” Peggy murmurs.

“But the thing is,” Steve says, continuing the thread of the conversation. “We always told the other if we were going after someone. Only time we couldn’t was when I was stuck back in the States and Bucky was off wherever the Army had him at the time.”

“And if there was a time that something came up unexpectedly,” Bucky adds. “We always tell each other as soon as possible. Y’know, Steve told me about you in the march back to the base in Italy, Peggy. Wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“He did?” Peggy looks pleased and bashful at the same time.

“I woulda told you two about Octopus Hands when I got some time alone with you both today,” Steve says, pouring hot tea into each of the cups. “But it didn’t really work out that way…”

Peggy waits until Steve puts own the teapot before pulling her cup to herself and adding some sugar. “So is this the way it’s going to be? I just have to put up with seeing you do things with random women?”

“No! Absolutely not,” Steve says firmly. “Like I said before, Bucky and I always talk to each other before doing something, whenever we can. It’s never ‘I’m going to do this, even if you don’t like it- ' ”

“At least not with women,” Bucky says loud enough for Peggy to hear and she snickers gently.

Steve glares at Bucky; turns out he did hear it. “Today was not a usual thing and my brain stopped using all sense there and… yeah, as Bucky said, dumbass. I’m sorry you had to walk in on that.”

“And the fondue comment?” Peggy prompts sharply.

“And the fondue comment.” Steve looks like he’s about ready to sink through the floor with embarrassment.

Bucky adds sugar to his own tea and sips at it delicately due to the heat of the water. “And next time Steve fucks up, can you not brandish a firearm at him?” he says with a _very_ pointed look in Peggy’s direction.

“Well, er, yes,” Peggy replies, looking like she wants to join Steve in heading downstairs through the direct method. “Definitely not my finest hour, I’ll admit. Yes, complete dumbarse.”

She picks up her cup of tea, nose scrunching as she does. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to drinking it black,” she laments. “Or start using powdered milk. Oh _joy._ ”

“Well…” Steve reaches into one of the pockets of his Eisenhower jacket an pulls out a glass bottle, putting it on the table in front of her. “This goes with the flowers, actually.”

“Oh!” Peggy exclaims, eyes widening. “How did you get hold of fresh milk at a time like this?”

“Let’s just say that Steve and I have to have dinner with the Milk Lady and her family in a few days. I think I’m getting set up with her spinster daughter,” says with a pragmatic grin. 

Steve is going to _owe,_ him for this. So much.

If Steve tries to sink down in his chair anymore, he’s going to end up in the Underground.

They sip their tea in much more relaxed silence than they began. “For what it’s worth,” Steve says, putting down his empty cup an addressing them both. “At this point in time I ain’t really interested in chasing after anyone else. I just want to be with you two.”

Eyes turn to Bucky and he clears his voice slowly. “What Stevie and I were doing before worked for me. I love him to my last dyin’ breath and I can go a long while with it just bein’ him and him alone-”

“But sometimes you need to scratch the lady itch,” Peggy finishes for him, nodding in understanding. 

“Yeah, pretty much, and occasional keeping others off our back as well,” he reminds her. “If you’re OK with that, don’t see why it can’t keep going like that.”

Peggy is surprised at this. “Why is _my_ input needed on what _you_ do? I’m not currently shagging _you_.

Steve and Bucky look at Peggy, confused. “What does dancin’ have to do with this?” Bucky asks, trying to wrap his head around the miscommunication.

Echoing their expressions, Peggy stares back at them, just as perplexed until something goes off in her head. “Oh! No, not dancing. ‘Shagging’ is another term for fucking over here. Haven’t you heard it yet? It’s considered a less vulgar tem than ‘fucking’.”

Bucky chuckles to himself as he watches Steve getting flustered and aroused every time Peggy drops a curse word. He’ll have to remember than for another time. 

“It ain’t just me and Steve anymore,” Bucky replies, watching Peggy’s reaction evenly. “Ain’t it?”

Peggy’s eyes go quite wide for a moment as she realises Bucky’s giving her the chance to back out gracefully as she chooses. To his right, Steve’s breath catches as he realises the same.

“No, it isn’t just the two of you anymore,” she agrees.

Steve sighs audibly with relief.

Internally, so does Bucky.

“You might not be there to vet every dame I meet out in the field like Steve can, but you still get to put your two cents in now, yeah?”

“That is true, but will you listen?” Peggy says, breaking into an impish grin as she opens the seal on the bottle and pours in a conservative measure into her tea as Bucky makes a considering noise that indicates she might be right. Steve snickers into his drink. 

“Then I have no problems with your arrangement, as long as you don’t go out and give Steve the Clap or something horrible like that,” Peggy says, her tone of voice becoming more serious.

“Bucky would _never_ do such a thing-” Steve starts.

While he is touched that Steve would stand up for his dubious honour like that, Bucky puts a hand on Steve’s arm to stop him from getting to his feet and begin ranting. “It’s a valid point. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Don’t feel like catching nothin’ or getting someone knocked up at this point in time, same as you, Steve.”

Steve’s temper goes down almost as quickly as it boiled over. He reaches across the small table and takes Peggy’s hand. “So what do _you_ want out of this, Peg?”

Peggy sits there, mulling over all the information she has heard so far. “So, if I wished, I could pursue other men, if you were alright with them?”

“Yeah, Steve nods. “Considering that there’ll be times when I’ll be away for long stretches of time, seems kinda unfair to ask you to go without when I probably won’t ‘cause I got Bucky with me.” 

“That… is a remarkably refreshing perspective on matters,” Peggy admits after a moment. “I can’t see the Andrew Sisters singing about that anytime soon.”

“Yeah, well, the Andrew Sisters don’t know what they’re missing out on,” Bucky declares, pouring himself another cup of tea.

Ok, tea might not be as bad. It might be quite good, actually.

“The youngest one wanted me to sit under her apple tree,” Steve mumbles into his tea cup.

Two heads swing in Steve’s direction in unison. Bucky actually chokes on his tea a little. “She did _what_?”

Cheeks going red again, Steve explains. “The Andrews Sisters were performing at the same place I was and Patty – that’s her name – and her sisters invited me and a couple of the other guys in uniform out for dinner. I don’t know about her sisters, but she didn’t invite me just to be _nice_ and all…”

“Oh the agony,” Peggy says dryly, but the way her lips are curling at the corners telegraph that she is teasing him.

“At least she was classy about taking no for an answer and didn’t get handsy and all,” Steve says, recalling the incident.

“You turned down the chance to be with an Andrews Sister?!?” Bucky’s not sure whether to be impressed or slap Steve across the back of his head for being a numbskull. 

Chuckling gently, Steve leans back in his chair. “It was like the dancers on tour – she wasn’t you two. How many times do I have to say this?”

“You might need to tell us again, from time to time,” Bucky says fondly, taking Steve’s hand in his. 

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Peggy agrees, taking Steve’s other hand back in his and giving it a squeeze.

“So we’re good?” Steve asks, expectantly.

“Yeah,” Peggy and Bucky say, laughing when they realise they’ve spoken at the same time.

“Yes,” Peggy repeats. “We’re good.”

As the tea dwindles and the evening wears on, they start looking at each other, wondering what is going to happen next. 

It is Peggy that makes a decision. “I know we’ve made up, but I think I need to sleep in my own bed tonight. Alone.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve agrees, with not as much reluctance as Bucky thought he would have. “With what’s happened today, taking it a bit slower wouldn’t hurt.”

It’s a good point. Even on his most desperate days, Bucky wouldn’t need to be fucked so badly that he would jump straight into the sack with the person who had been taking pot shots at him – verbally or otherwise – earlier the same day.

“Well, at least when the time comes, I’ll be ready this time.” Peggy leads the men into the lounge room, getting her hand bag and up ending the contents onto the couch. Several packets of army-issue condoms fail out amongst Peggy’s coin purse, and cosmetics.

Letting out a bark of a laugh, Bucky pulls out three packets of the same condoms from his pockets. “That’s all they had when I snuck in. Box was practically empty,” he chuckles with a note of apology.

“But it was at least half full when I went though it this morning…” Peggy says.

“I might’ve had something to do with that,” Steve pipes up. He goes through every pocket on his person, pulling out packets an adding them to Peggy’s pile on the couch. The pile grows considerably larger, ensuring protection for dozens of encounters to come. Went through just before I went to see Stark, actually. Couldn’t get back into the infirmary to put them back after, so I kept them.”

“Oh my,” Peggy says faintly.

Bucky looks away, biting on a finger to not start sniggering at Steve’s earnestness.

Captain America, condom thief.


	4. Chapter 4

“You don’t _need_ to come with us, Peg,” Steve points out, somewhat futilely, as he stands in the middle of Peggy’s brother’s flat (It’s a ‘flat’ not an ‘apartment’ here, Peggy says), brushing his uniform jacket down. “We – and by that I mean Buck and me – got ourselves into this. Not you.”

“Nonsense,” Peggy says, walking out the bathroom in her slip and into the bedroom, before coming back out with a pair of stockings in hand. “You got in this predicament doing something nice for me. Considering the circumstances that led to that, and my part in it, it’s the least I can do, sharing some of the burden. Also, there’ll be food.”

Bucky lounges on the couch, watching with amusement how distracted his beau gets as Peggy puts a foot up on the armchair and lazily rolls one sheer stocking up her leg, securing the top to the clips dangling from her garter belt. Bucky’s willing to bet money, or even his cigarette ration, that this is all deliberate on Peggy’s part.

“Ok, sure…” Steve says faintly, not taking his eyes off her extremely capable hands as she rolls the second stocking up her other leg. When her eyes flicker up to meets Steve’s gaze, Bucky knows he’s down one hypothetical smoke ration.

Her mission complete, Peggy saunters back into the bedroom. Steve follows as far as the doorway, leaning on the door frame where he can see both Peggy and Bucky. Peggy’s been firm about dialling things back a few notches since the fondue-gun incident; it’s only been a few kisses between her and Steve in the handful of days that has passed. However, apparently letting Steve watch her dress is now permitted, which he chooses to take her up on.

“You’re not going empty handed to this, are you?” Peggy calls out, loud enough for Bucky to hear as well.

“Of course not!” Steve says at the same time Bucky says indignantly, “Hell no!”

“We may be Americans, but we’re not _savages_ ,” grouses Bucky. “We managed to get our hands on a pair of nylons for the Milk Lady and _two_ for the daughter I’m sure she’s gonna try and set me up with.”

There’s a feminine laugh from the bedroom and something Bucky can’t quite make out. In response to whatever Peggy just said, Steve asks, perplexed. “What on earth would she need gravy powder for?”

Bucky gets to his feet, sidling up next to Steve so close he can slip an arm around Steve’s waist. He’d like to know, too. 

Lifting up the hem of her uniform skirt, Peggy shows off how her stockings make her pale legs look tanned. “Since it’s hard to come by new stockings, what with rationing and shortages and all, a lot of women rub things like gravy powder onto their legs to give the illusion of wearing stockings. Draw a seam up the back of the leg with kohl pencil and most people aren’t any the wiser. That’s why real stocking will go down quite a treat.”

“Huh,” says Bucky, absorbing the information. “That’s pretty clever, actually.”

Grinning as she pulls her uniform jacket over her blouse, Peggy says, “We’ve had to be pretty ingenious to still look this good. Can’t be letting our menfolk’s morale down, you know. If it even comes down to it, I’ll get you to draw my seams on me, Steve. I know you’ve got a good eye for drawing; I’m sure you could make it look rather realistic. “

Oh this woman is _smooth_ , stroking Steve’s ego through his artistic abilities, right after dazzling him with those legs of hers. _Smooth_. She’s almost like Bucky, in a way. 

Bucky goes ‘huh’ again, chuckling to himself. So Steve Rogers has a _type_.

While Peggy’s putting on her face, Bucky ducks into the bathroom to check out how he’s looking so far. Asking Steve would be pointless; Bucky could look like he’d just crawled out of the bowels of Hell and Steve would say Bucky was the best looking guy he’d ever seen.

Come to think of it, that was last week.

Still, Steve Rogers, completely biased.

Of course, he could ask Peggy, but that seems a little too personal at this early point of their friendship. Seeing her naked and writhing, and him with his mouth full of Steve’s cock is one thing, but this? All in due time.

Bucky pulls a face at his hair. He’d slicked it down with water before they walked over to Peggy’s apartment, but it has dried in the meantime and refuses to stay still. This won’t do. The family they’re having dinner with will no doubt be in their Sunday best, so it’s the least the three of them can do is to look smartly dressed. Can’t have them thinking all the Yanks are slobs.

There’s a medicine cabinet hidden behind a mirror over the sink, which Bucky opens up, propriety be damned. While it is mostly bare – Peggy keeps her toiletries in the bedroom, ready to sweep into a bag if and when she’ll have to leave in a hurry – her brother has left behind a pair of brand new toothbrushes and a mostly empty jar of Brylcreem. Since Peggy’s brother isn’t around to ask, Buck helps himself, taking just enough of the Brylcreem to smooth down his hair and not have to worry about it until after all this is finished tonight.

“Watcha doing in here, Buck?” Steve asks, sticking his head around the door.

“Just making myself presentable,” Bucky replies, checking himself over once more. “Making sure I ain’t gonna let down the team by turning up looking scruffy.”

Steve plants a kiss on Bucky’s freshly shaven cheek, stealing a dollop of Brylcreem for himself, to tame an errant lock of his own hair. “Lucky for you, then, that we have to be at this place at a particular time,” he murmurs, the heat in his voice promising many things that makes Bucky flush.

What _is_ it about Steve making him flustered in bathrooms?

“What on earth takes so long in there?” Peggy calls out from the lounge room. A beat later she hurriedly adds. “Don’t answer that.”

Bucky, finally satisfied, pushes Steve out of the bathroom. “It’s not what you think it is, despite what it looks like.”

“I see…” Peggy replies skeptically. 

“It’s true!” Steve protests. “We were doing our hair!”

He points to Bucky’s now tamed hair. “See?”

“And women get accused of being vain!” Peggy rolls her eyes. “Peacocks, the lot of you!”


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m sure it’s this way,” Steve insists, walking a few quick steps ahead of them and leading the way through the late afternoon pedestrian traffic like he was leading an exploration party through the jungles of South America in the books they had read as kids. 

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, looking around in confusion. Several people give him filthy looks as they have to suddenly step around the American shaped obstacle in their path. “I _thought_ it was this way,” he mutters to himself.

“Didn’t you get the address?” Peggy asks in disbelief, as she and Steve catches up to Bucky.

“I forgot to,” Steve admits sheepishly. “I was so wrapped up in what I was going to do to make it right with you, I just didn’t think-“

“Gee, you not thinking, must be Tuesday,” Bucky says dryly. He guides them over to the edge of the sidewalk, so they’re not in the way. “Lucky for you, I _did_ think and got the details off the lady. Wrote it all down and everything.”

The smug look on his face, as he pulls the piece of paper with the address on it out of his wallet, falls off his face as he looks around. “There’s no street signs…”

“Yes, that’s right. They were taken down to make it harder for Jerry in case they ever do set foot in England,” Peggy explains, taking the piece of paper from Bucky and peering at it. “Of course, your handwriting doesn’t help.”

“That’s not _my_ handwriting, that’s the lady we got the milk from,” Bucky retorts indignantly. “The Nuns always said my penmanship was excellent, I’ll have you know!”

“I stand corrected.” Peggy looks at the paper, then around again. “Lucky for you, oh great handwriting master, you know someone who actually knows where this street is.”

Peggy takes point, muttering to herself about how much the SSR and the Allied Forces are in trouble if ‘these two’ are going to be leading their crack commando squad, what with them not being able to find one little shop in London.

A few streets over, Steve perks up. “I know where we are now!” he says, face lighting up. He points down the street. “The SSR HQ is down-“

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, tugging it down. “Why don’t ya broadcast it on the BBC, you numbskull?!?” he hisses at Steve. “Maybe put an ad in the newspaper?”

“But it is…” Steve says lamely, chastened. His broad shoulders sag like a Macy’s Thanksgiving parade float deflating.

Peggy pats Steve’s shoulder. “There, there,” she soothes sarcastically.

Giving her a side eye, Steve walks ahead of them again. “You’re just making fun of me,” he says in a huff.

Peggy opens and shuts her mouth a few times like she is going to protest; in the end she just shrugs. “Yes, yes I am,” she admits without shame.

“You going to tell me off if I point out the pub is just around the corner from here?” Bucky grins at Peggy.

“Well that’s hardly covered under the Official Secrets Act,” she scoffs good naturedly. “Although the way the rest of your squad was drinking last night, the publican might soon wish their location was a secret, if a bunch of rowdy Yanks are going to drink them out of hearth and home-“

“Hey, one of our guy’s a limey like you!” Bucky shoots back.

“And I don’t think Denier would like being called an American _or_ a Brit,” Steve points out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll reassure him personally that he is neither,” Peggy reassures them, leading them around a corner and down a street that looks vaguely familiar to Bucky from the Great Milk Hunt a few days prior.

Bucky’s too busy looking around, trying to properly reorientate himself, that he misses what Peggy says next, only registering that it wasn’t English. Steve, on the other hand, looks thoroughly impressed.

“What was that?” Bucky asks. “I know what Italian and Yiddish sound like, and that didn’t sound like neither of ‘em.”

“It was French, ya dumdum,” Steve says, giving Bucky a playful shove on the shoulder.

“ _Oui_ ,” Peggy says, nodding. “I thought you shared a cell with the Frenchman?”

Bucky grimaces, looking down at his shoes. “He came in one of the times I was taken to the lab. When they threw me back in the cage, I was kinda delirious and I don’t remember seeing him. Then they took me back to the lab again and that’s when Steve showed up.”

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets and hunching his shoulders down, he strides away from them with quick purposeful strides. For a few minutes he walks alone and he is grateful Steve and Peggy don’t rush to catch up with him. It gives him time to collect his thoughts and lock them away, to deal with later where he can go to pieces in private instead of this busy London street. He comes to a stop in front of the little store they’d come across a few days ago on their Hunt for Apology Milk.

“So this is the place?” Peggy remarks once she and Steve stroll up.

“Yep,” Bucky replies, drawing out the end of the word.

“It’s just dinner, it’s not a court martial,” Steve says, trying to be reassuring.

“Says the person who won’t have some strange girl foist on him tonight,” Bucky shoots back, still trying to shake the mood that had descended on him. It was probably the reason why this positional blind date was bugging him.

“Yeah, like I have _no idea_ about what it feels like to be set up with someone I don’t know.” Steve says dryly. “At least yours will probably make it to the end of the meal.”

Eyebrow raised in question, Peggy looks from Steve to Bucky. “I’m obviously missing something here.”

“Steve Rogers, been set up on more dates than, what’s that thing you say over here? ‘Had hot dinners’,” Bucky explains with a wry smile.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Steve mutters.

“Well, that’s all their loss, isn’t it?” Peggy says with a look that even Bucky can pick up on – that instead of _one_ vapid Brooklyn girl, Steve has Peggy _and_ Bucky. 

“Still getting used to that,” Steve murmurs bashfully, responding to the unspoken.

It’s real hard for Bucky not to grab Steve’s hand and give it a squeeze to reassure Steve (and reassure himself, as well), standing out in the street like they are. Instead, he inclines his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

Clapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, Steve leans in a little, keeping his voice low. “Thanks for helping me with all this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grouses. “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

“Such _language_ ,” Peggy murmurs with a gentle snort, as Steve opens the store door with a faint tinkle of a bell.

A lanky, bespectacled middle-aged man looks up from where he is standing behind a counter, many shelves of groceries and sundry behind him. He regards them with amusement. Pushing open a curtain hanging over a doorway to the side of the counter, he yells “Margery! Your Army boys are here!”

When Peggy steps out from behind Steve and Bucky, the man’s eyebrows travel halfway up his forehead for a moment, and then he adds. “And there’s a lady here too!”

“A lady?” a woman’s voice echoes, presumably the mentioned Margery. After a series of footsteps thumping down the stairs, the woman that had served Bucky and Steve bursts out from behind the curtain. Her pepper and salt hair is still in curlers, tied up in a scarf, while a green floral housecoat protects her dress. She looks over at the clock, ticking merrily away on the wall by the door. “Blimey, is that the time? And you brought a lady friend – “

Realization dawns on her. “Is this the lass you needed to get back on the good side of?”

Steve blushes, cringing slightly. “Yes, this is her. It worked, as you can see.”

Peggy steps forward, hand outstretched in greeting. “I’m Peggy Carter,” she says warmly, shaking Margery’s hand once accepted. “Thank you for helping these two dunderheads; it was very kind of you.”

“Oh, it wasn’t any trouble,” Margery replies, clasping her other hand over hers and Peggy’s. “I’m glad we could help smooth out the path for young love and all, especially in a time like this. Isn’t that right, Cecil dear?”

Cecil quietly ‘harumphs’ to himself from behind his wife. “Yes, dear,” he says with a straight face.

Bucky casts a bemused glance over at Steve. It’s clear who’s the boss in this relationship. Ah, mature love.

It would be nice to be like that one day, him and Steve; and Peggy, too, Bucky supposes. Peggy could probably wear the trousers for all of them. 

First they need to survive this fucking war.

“Don’t mind him, he is actually very pleased to see all of you,” Margery says. “He’s just sore that he just lost a wager with me. Sourpuss here reckoned you were going to scarper with the milk and not show up today. He’s had a few run-ins with less-than-pleasant Americans, I’m afraid.”

“ _I_ used the word ‘wankers’, if I remember correctly,” Cecil mutters under his breath, but loud enough for Bucky to hear. If everyone else hears him, they’re being too polite to react.

“’Overpaid, oversexed and over here’, am I right?” Bucky offers, holding out his hand in greeting and as a peace offering to Margery’s husband.

Cecil seems to hesitate for a moment, and then he grabs Bucky’s hand in a strong handshake. “Ah, you’ll keep,” he says, warming up to them. “I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

While Margery hurries back upstairs, Steve and Peggy introduce themselves to Cecil, making small talk about the shop as they wait for Margery’s return.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve says after a few minutes of chatter. “But what do you owe your wife, if you lost the bet?”

“Oh, I’m doing the dishes for the next week,” Cecil replies grimly. “She picked it. She knows I hate doing ‘em, especially when she goes on a cooking rampage like she has today.”

Bucky nods knowingly. Sounds like his mother come Thanksgiving.  
They all turn their heads towards two sets of footfalls thumping down the stairs, and muffled cursing by a younger woman. “Bloody hell, Mum, you make me go any faster and I’ll trip down the bloody stairs and then where will we be?”

“Elizabeth Anne Smith, mind your p’s and q’s in front of the guests!” Margery scolds, horrified.

Margery pushes her daughter through the curtain, following close after. Elizabeth, looking in her early twenties to Bucky, stands between her parents, clearly uncomfortable with their behaviour. “Mum!” she groans in desperation.

“It’s alright, Mrs Smith,” Steve assures them. “We’ve heard worse in the Army.”

“Much, much worse,” Bucky mutters, to which he gets a brisk kick to the shin by Steve. “Hey, it’s _true_!”

“I’m sure they tone it down around you, don’t they Miss Carter?” Margery asks, clearly trying to bring some civility back to the conversation. 

“Agent,” Peggy corrects swiftly, but kindly. “And no, they don’t. I don’t expect them to either. If one is going to be a wilting flower, one shouldn’t sign up for anything _remotely_ associated with the military. Got to show we’re as tough as the boys, yes?”

Bucky really wishes he could have been there to see her punch the recruit that was mouthing off to her. It would have been _beautiful_. 

Best not to mention that to Mr & Mrs Smith.

Elizabeth Smith just gazes at Peggy in awe.


	6. Chapter 6

“I am _so_ sorry for all of that. My mum is so bloody embarrassing,” Elizabeth – no, she prefers to be called Bess – says, unable to hide the mortification in her voice.

Since dinner – or is it lunch? They seem to use the two words interchangeably in this country. So confusing - wasn’t ready yet, Margery Smith had declared today’s weather to be ‘very nice for this time of the year’ and bade Bess to go for a stroll with their guests, in order to get to know each other better. By the time they’d get back, everything should be ready to go. 

Bess lead them in the direction of the park several minute’s walk from her home. The further they got away from there, the less twitchy their host seemed to be.

“I take it this isn’t the first time she’s done something like this?” Peggy asks Bess, referring to her mother, as they amble along a path on the circumference of the park. Peggy has her hand tucked in the crook of Steve’s arm, like a genteel courting couple.

Bucky had offered the same to Bess, stressing he wouldn’t be offended if she declined. The look of relief Bess gave him when given the option to say no spoke volumes about prior experiences.

“Nearly every weekend since the war started,” Bess says with a resigned sigh.

“Wow, since ’41?” Bucky has to admit, that’s quite some dedication on the part of Margery Smith.

“’39.” Bess and Peggy correct, in unison. They look at each other and laugh.

Holy cow. She’s been at it for _five years_.

“She likes having the Americans around the most. You all bring the nicest presents,” Bess says with a laugh.

“Sounds like a regular Mrs Bennet,” Peggy muses.

“Oh yes,” Bess sniggers. 

Bucky can’t place the character. “Mrs Bennet?”

“ _Pride and Prejudice_ ,” Steve says. “Jane Austen. You’d like it Buck, it’s funny. Mrs Bennet is a character in it; she’s obsessed with getting her daughters married off.”

“Luckily, this Mrs Bennet only has one daughter to get in a tizzy over,” Bess says. God knows what she’d be like if there were _four_ girls in my family.”

“Is it just you, in your family?” Steve asks.

Bess shakes her head. “I’ve got two older brothers. Both in the British Navy. That’s the other reason she’s got a soft spot for you military types.”

“I thought Navy didn’t get along with Army?” Bucky’s seen the rivalry between the two, especially when booze gets involved.

She shrugs. “Eh, she’s not picky. You’re all potential husbands and substitute sons in her eyes.”

They take their time going around the park, knowing the longer they take here, the longer they get to put off Margery Smith’s enthusiasm. Bucky and Steve, with the help of Peggy, tell Bess about New York City. It’s interesting to watch Bess’s reactions to their stories. 

It strikes Bucky that he’s never thought of New York – Brooklyn in particular – that interesting or exciting, not in the way Bess sees it, and he says so.

“It probably doesn’t, if you live there all the time,” Peggy points out. Haven’t you felt that about places, or are you one of those people were content to never leave the Five Boroughs?”

She’s got him there. “Sure, there’s plenty of places I’ve thought about wanting to travel to. From time to time Steve would get some book from the library, when we were in school, and we’d read it and plan these big elaborate vacations, but we never thought we’d get to _see_ these places. Not without some distant rich relative kicking the bucket and leaving us all their money,” Bucky says.

Steve nods, smiling at the recollection. “Just wish we were over here under more pleasant circumstances. But I’d be lying if a part of me ain’t over the moon to have left New York City, let alone the States.”

“Well you _did_ get to see some of the States first, Steve.” Peggy proceeds to tell Bess everything she knows about Steve’s time on the Spangle Circuit. Many of these stories are ones Bucky hasn’t heard yet; he laughs at them just as much as their host.

“Geeze, Peggy!” Steve grouses. Even his ears go bright red.

Steve directs her away, towards some Victory Gardens currently dormant due to the weather. To the outside observer, it would look like they were giving Bucky and Bess some time alone. More accurately, Steve is probably separating them to stop Peggy from telling any more embarrassing stories, or for her to start egging Bucky on to tell the stories he knows about Steve. 

“They’re a handsome couple,” Bess remarks, nodding in Steve and Peggy’s direction. 

“They are,” Bucky agrees, smiling fondly at them. “I’m glad they made up. I’m the schmuck that would have had to listen to his bellyaching and moping about if they hadn’t.”

“So is that why you fell on the grenade that is lunch for him?” Bess says with a cheeky smile and a nudge of her arm. “Tis truly a heroic act, dealing with my mother.”

“If that makes me a hero, what does that makes your dad?” 

Bess laughs so loudly she snorts, and is unapologetic about it. “Deserving of a knighthood, probably. I’m sure the Palace lost the paperwork in an air raid.”

They walk in companionable silence for about a quarter of the circumference of the park, before Bess strikes up conversation again. “You got a girl waiting for you back home?”

She seems to be merely curious, rather than trying to see if she has a chance with him. Bucky answers truthfully. “Apart from my mother and my younger sisters, no, I do not have a girl waiting for me.”

For the next few minutes, he tells her about his sisters. Like with the stories about New York, Bess listens with rapt attention, having never grown up with sisters of her own. Personally, Bucky thinks that Bess would get along just fine with his sisters. He starts asking her about her brothers, for similar reasons. He may have spent a great deal of his childhood with Steve by his side, but he would be lying if he wasn’t curious about what it would have been like to have a boy in the family from the very beginning. 

When the topic turns to parents, in particular, mothers, Bucky feels comfortable with Bess enough to ask “So your mother’s been throwing men at you for five years now? Does she have very bad taste in potential son-in-laws or something, for you to still be not spoken for?”

When Bess’s eyebrows go skyward at Bucky’s directness, he holds a hand out in apology. “You don’t have to answer that. That was rude of me.”

For a moment it looks like Bess is going to take offense, until she rocks back on her feet and laughs. “Ah, you’ll keep.”

“You’re not upset?” Bucky asks, surprised.

“Ah, no,” she chuckles. “No one’s ever bothered asking before, not like you have. The nice ones are all about kissing my parents’ arses. Some just come around for the free feed; I’m not going to begrudge a man that. Couple of them turned out to be right wankers. They’d get this idea in their heads that because they put up with eating with my parents, I ‘owed them’ and would try and get me in a dark corner somewhere…”

She shudders, and then scowls at the memory. “None of them’s really bothered to see _me_ , if that makes sense?”

Looking across the park, where Steve is still looking at the garden beds with Peggy, Bucky nods. Maybe it would be nice to get a house with a yard, after the war, plant a garden. “It makes a lot of sense.”

“And to answer your question, my mother has absolutely _no_ bloody idea what my taste in men is,” Bess admits grimly. 

A thought floats into Bucky’s head. He lowers his voice so they can’t be overheard. “Are men not to your liking?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Bess’s eyebrows go up. Again she laughs. “I think if I brought a girl home, it might shut her up for a while. She’d be satisfied I wasn’t going to die alone, eaten by my two dozen cats. But then she’d start on me about not giving her grandbabies, even though I’m sure at least one of my brothers do that just fine.”

“But the thing is,” Bess says. “Women aren’t to my liking either.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be surprised. “No-one?”

“No-one,” she repeats. “Never. Not _that_ way.”

“Huh.” When Bucky thinks about it, it makes sense. If there are men who prefer men; and women who prefer women; and of course guys like him who prefers them both, why shouldn’t there be people like Bess who preferred none? “Well that explains why your mother’s had no luck.”

“Rather,” Bess agrees. “Completely barking up all the wrong trees.”

As they round the curve of the park, coming closer to Peggy and Steve, Bess lets out a long breath, then smiles at Bucky. “I’ve never been able to tell anyone about that. It feels… good.”

For a moment Bucky is standing back in the middle of Peggy’s living room, with a similar smile and feeling relief knowing another person knows his secret and isn’t freaking out about it. He reaches out and claps his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me, I completely understand how that feels.”

What he said before was completely true: it isn’t a girl waiting for him; and he’s not back at home – he’s waiting for Bucky just over there.

“Do you think it’s time to head back?” Peggy asks as Bucky and Bess fall into step with her and Steve. 

Bess looks at her wristwatch and grimaces, like they’re about to be sent out into the battlefield. “You know, we _could_ just nick off and go to the pictures instead…”

The pictures… that’s right, movies. It _does_ sound appealing…

“I bet your mom’s been working hard on lunch,” Bucky points out. “She’d be upset if we didn’t show up. It wouldn’t be fair to have you take all the flack when you got home.”

Bucky arches an eyebrow at Steve, cocking his head in a smirk. “And some of us need to take our licks, ammirite Steve? I ain’t doing this on my own.”

Steve looks guilty, and then flinches when Peggy elbows him where the ribs would be, under all those ridiculous muscles. 

“And then,” he says, largely to Bess. “We’ll go to the movies after. Our treat. Least we can do, after all your mom’s put you through to help this asshole out.”


End file.
